


Chicken Soup For The Souless

by markipwiwer



Category: Video Blogging RPF, jacksepticeye, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Polyamory, Rope Bondage, Sickness, Vomit Mention, anti has a fever, but it’s super minor, mild body horror, weird technology sounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-14
Updated: 2018-03-14
Packaged: 2019-03-31 06:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13969599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/markipwiwer/pseuds/markipwiwer
Summary: Anti is a sick glitch. Wilford fussed over him.





	1. Chapter 1

Anti was sick. Anti had probably actually been sick for at least a week, since Jack had come down with something a few days ago as well.  
Wilford had been put in charge of taking care of Anti while Dark was gone. It was a two-week business trip and they weren’t even half way through it yet. Anti had mostly been able to keep his illness something of a secret other that sounding more glitchy than usual. It was only that morning when Wilford awoke to the virus throwing up acidic black bile in the bathroom that he figured MAYBE something was off. Possibly.

“Jesus, Anti, I knew you were a little off but that doesn’t look healthy.” The candy man walked into the bathroom in the nude as was the usual. Anti, wearing just a t-shirt, was gripping at the toilet bowl and shivering violently.

“I’m fine, Warfstache. Just go back to bed. I don’t want Dark knowin’ about this, either.” His voice sounded jagged as his form switched between sitting up right and bringing up more of the tar-like substance. It ended up being the latter.

“Darky doesn’t have to know if you can get better in the meantime. And I’d rather not have him thinking I wasn’t taking care of you!” Wilfords voice was way too sing-songy for this time of morning.

Anti turned from the toilet bowl and looked back at Wilford with a snarl, black whatever dripping from his mouth and onto his shirt.

Okay, so maybe Wilford hadn’t exactly been tasked with taking care of Anti. More that there was a mutual agreement from the both of them with Dark that they’d do their best to stay out of trouble and keep each other in check depending on who was more law-abiding on any given day.  
And so it was, Wilford would come home with a body and Anti would help him get rid of it. Anti would almost murder someone in a bar and Wilford would be tugging him by the neck of his shirt like an animal on a leash. And they kept each other sexually satisfied, of course.

When Dark was around it was like a game of who could keep his attention the longest, who could make him crumble, who could make him scream. And they were both talented in their own ways. But Dark kept their respective sanities in check. When Dark was gone, things got more... chaotic. In every way.

Wilford rolled his eyes lovingly at the green mess of a man on the ground. He grabbed a hand towel from the cupboard under the sink and wet it a little with cold water. He then walked over to Anti and kneeled on the ground, first reaching out his empty hand and placing it gently against Antis forehead.  
Anti smacked the soft hand away, sending a dull shock into Wilfords palm.

“Hey now, that’s one hell of a fever you’ve got going there love.” Wilford immediately put the cool damp cloth over Antis face and he tried to bat that away too except... he couldn’t. Just having coolness against his gross, hot skin was too comforting and it almost immediately put him in a state of paralysis.

“I don’t need yer help, Wilford...” Anti tried to bite but found himself to be too tired.

“Suuure you don’t.” Wilford replied as he scooped up the glitch from the floor and carried him back to bed, tucking him in neatly. Anti almost immediately kicked out the covers again, as if protesting the care in his sleep. Wilford got himself comfy again and planted a sweet healing kiss against his partners cheek, before dozing off again. It was rather too early for this.

 

While attempting to get a few more hours sleep in, Anti switched from being curled up in a ball, not wanting to be touched or even breathed on, to entangling all of his lanky scarred limbs with Wilfords every few minutes or so. It occurred to Wilford that he wasn’t entirely sure of Antis make up. He knew how to take care of humans, but he wasn’t so great with... whatever the hell Anti was.  
Wilford, unable to sleep with Antis moving around constantly, climbed out of bed carefully, put on pants and went into the kitchen of the Ego household, where he found Google. The yellow one, specifically.

“Hey, Oliver, I need your help with something. But you gotta promise to not tell Dark.” Wilford stood close to the AI and spoke in a whispered tone.

“Hey Wil! I’d love to but, uh, you know Dark has all four of us on surveillance... not telling him about something important would go against my current objective.”

Wilford thought about it for a moment, his arms crossing over his chest.

“...How about a five minute incognito session?”

Yellow cocked an eyebrow.

“Well... okay, but DON’T use me for porn.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Oli!” Wilford conjured a flash drive and chucked it in Oliver’s direction.

 

Ten minutes later, Wilford was walking back into the bedroom with a glass of water (just about the only thing the demon virus thing could keep down) and the flash drive in his hands. Anti stirred and thrashed about, his form getting more and more erratic. It was a little hard to watch someone who was usually such a tough guy trying to hide his pain.  
Wilford sat himself gently on the bed, which caused Anti to sit up rather quickly in bed. The green thing suddenly felt quite dizzy.

“Hey, hey, slow down there you goofball. You’ll make yourself more sick.” Wilfords voice was laced with concern as he gently willed Anti back down onto the pillows with a refreshingly cold force.

“Tsk, I don’t want or need yers or ANYONES help, Warfstache!” Anti was more or less silenced when Wilford conjured a nice, thin piece of ice to just rub against the glitches lips. Anti moaned, but not in a sexual way. It was just straight relief from this hellfire his form was subjecting him to.  
After the ice cube melted the other psycho in the room handing him a glass of water, encouraging him to drink it down. Anti did hastily, letting his pride fall away momentarily.  
Wilford took the glass as soon as it was finished and placed a small, artificially cool kiss on Antis forehead where the damp cloth had once been.

“Now, love, I want you to try something for me. I did a little research and I’m hoping this will help.” Wilford held up the flash drive.

“What do ye want me to do with that, stick it up me arse? I ain’t built like that, ye cockhead!”  
Anti was immediately defensive and stiff, but Wilford was persistent, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“No. I want you to swallow it.”

“I’m not built for that either, genius.”  
Anti was apparently kind of bratty when he was sick. Well, more so than usual.

“I know you are, Anti. I’ve seen you do it on multiple occasions.” Wilford had a cheeky grin on his face. Anti ‘blushed’ a strange darker colour, overheating even more.  
A grimace still on his face, Anti yanked the flashdrive from Wilfords hand and swallows it down in one gulp easily. He processes it for a second, smacking and licking his lips and then he paused.

“Wilford. Did you just feed me a USB full of pictures of chicken soup?”  
Now Anti cracked a grin and Wilford was blushing.

“I... well, I thought - I didn’t know!”  
Wilford stumbled through his words, even more concerned than he was before.

Anti chuckled manically, which turned into full-bellies laughter which turned into an intense dry cough. He spluttered some black stuff onto the bed and rolled over, pulling his blanket back over him and hastily slapping on the damp cloth onto his forehead once more.

“Thanks ye fookin idiot.” Anti giggles out before drifting off again, shakily.  
If you listened hard enough you could hear the smile still on Antis face. Of course he wouldn’t tell Wil it actually worked.


	2. Inky Sweat and Many Voices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anti is restless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> only took me a month to get done but it’s okay because in this chapter they fucc

A few days later, Anti was still quite ill.  
He wasn’t throwing up as much blackness which was good, although he’d burned holes in some of Wilfords favourite shirts. But he was sounding god awful. Anti didn’t usually have a tendency to mumble unless he was tired. When he was sick, he was always tired. So between the slurred speech and the voice that sounded like digital nails against a chalkboard, sometimes he was downright incomprehensible. He’d yap on in some otherworldly language that clearly strained his voice, Wilford would try in vain to tell him to rest and then, of course, he’d start cursing Wilford out.

At this point in time, Anti was sat up on the edge of the bed like a child, pouting. Wilford had been attempting to reason with him.

“I want b-batteries.”

“You’re not getting any batteries until you’ve ingested something for your throat.”

“For fuck sake Warfstache, I’ll be fine. Nothing a liquid protein diet wouldn’t fix.”

“ANTI.”

Anti had been doing this a lot. He’d been cooped up in bed for close to four days and he was getting antsy. For a kill or a fuck, either would be just fine. Wilford had half a mind to bring someone in and torture them in front of Anti, cut them open a bit, make a show of it. But Wilford knew that the glitch got... a bit weird with pain. A bit greedy.  
So no torture. Instead, Anti attempted to woo Wilford with not so subtle sexual innuendos. Usually Wilford didn’t mind, he found Antis’ forwardness to be charming, if not a little ridiculous. But right now he was sick and his body was already overheated enough. Wilford didn’t need to exasperate that.

“Come ooon, I’m bored outta my fuckin’ skull here! The heart wants what the heart wants!”  
Anti dramatically flopped backwards onto the bed, looking up at Wilford with attempted puppy dog eyes.

“I can’t believe I have to say this... Anti, I’m not sticking my dick down your throat in the name of your physical well-being. You need to have a lozenger or honey and lemon or something. Whatever your equivalent of that is.”

“Maybe my equivalent is yer d-dick down my throat. Ye don’t know how I work.”

He had something of a point. Wilford still didn’t really know how he worked.

“If you don’t have something, you’re not getting any batteries.”

Anti grumbles and sat back up again, almost smacking Wilford in the face.  
“FINE! But check for watermarks on the pictures first, that stuff is weird.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise. What does it taste like?”

“It’s like leaving the plastic film on something before biting into it. It’s exactly why I don’t eat your normal food. You’re better at Googling than you are at cooking.”

Wilford decided to not even press into that conversation, instead opting to go and find Oliver again. The comment still lingered for a bit though. Dark liked his cooking...

 

When Wilford walked back in with another flash drive, he couldn’t say he was particularly shocked. Anti was trying to scratch his itch, obviously.  
Splayed out on the bed, two fingers in his ass, clumsily fucking his own fist and barely keeping himself quiet. With the odd static sound resonating in the room, it wasn’t a surprise Anti didn’t hear Wilford come in. Either that or he didn’t care and was trying to get a reaction out of the older man.

Wilford supposed he could enjoy the show momentarily.

Anti had propped himself up on a few pillows to make the angle at which he was fucking himself slightly less awkward. He had a few strands of hair stuck to his face, although Wilford could have sworn Anti didn’t actually sweat. His whole body looked two shades darker and he was very out of breath, wearing himself out with his own desperation. Well that wouldn’t do at all.

Wilford paced over with more enthusiasm than he probably intended to show because Anti looked up at him without so much as even pretending to be surprised.  
His face glitched into a sly smile and he slowed down for only a moment, taking his fingers out of his ass to give the pink man a cheeky wave.

Wilford almost had to laugh at the situation. He matched Antis grin for very different reasons and flicked his wrists. Anti let out a yelp in actual surprise this time which was perhaps more satisfying than it should have been. His hips jerked a little at the sudden lack of contact, unable to touch himself anymore.

“W-Do you mind?! I was kinda doin’ a thing!” Anti snapped and almost immediately regretted yelling, his light headedness catching up with him like a speeding train.

“You were exhausting yourself! Look, you’re sweating! I didn’t even know you could sweat!” As if to prove a point, Wilford conjured a handkerchief and crawled onto the bed to hover above the younger man. He gently dabbed at Antis forehead, then pulling the handkerchief back so they could both see the weird, light inky substance. He struggled to notice that his hard cock was basically poking Anti in the stomach. Wilford would forever preach that he was doing this for Antis own good, but he did get an awful lot of satisfaction out of watching him struggle - especially against rope.

“Point taken. Can I go back to jerkin’ off now? I promise I’ll be more gentle about it.” If it hadn’t been so thickly laced with sarcasm Wilford might have been tempted to actually let Anti just do his thing, standing back to watch. But the pink, all too smug asshole knew in his heart of hearts that Anti would never be gentle when it came to his sexual endeavours - not with himself or anyone else. He was very young compared to Wilford and Dark and hadn’t learned anything close to subtlety or finesse.

Wilford shook his head slowly and tsk’d at Anti in the way a parent would scold a child for making dumb life choices and the glitch looked like he was about to sneer at the older man. But then Wilford was edging back a little, and suddenly he had his mouth around Antis cock, which was hot and wet and almost too overwhelming for Antis already far too sensitive nerves. 

Antis natural instinct was of course to put his hand on the top of Wilfords head and use his mouth like a toy. But he couldn’t with his hands tied, more the pity. It was typical of Wilford to out-dominate anyone who tried to challenge him.  
Instead, Wilford was swirling his tongue around the head and bobbing leisurely, using his decades worth of experience like it was nothing. Anti was trying not to swear but couldn’t help the frustrated moan that escaped the back of his throat when Wilford pulled off with a satisfied ‘pop’.

“Why’d ye fuckin’ stop?!”  
There was that sneer.

“You taste like actual battery acid.”

“What do I usually taste like?”

Wilford licked his lips and thought for a moment.  
“You usually taste like blood, which is far more superior. Am I going to die from ingesting this?”

“Darks’ been doin’ it for a pretty long time, I don’t think he’s ever gotten sick from my bodily fluids, thank ye very fuckin’ much.”

“Dark isn’t entirely human.”

“Neither are you!”

That much was true. Wilford was the most human out of the three of them, but still questionably so. As if to prove a point, he licked a long, teasing stripe up the shaft of Antis cock and placed a kiss right at the tip to top it all off before moving again. The look on Antis face was close to horror, clearly rather afraid that Wilford was going to leave him there to suffer. But instead, Wilford got on his knees and spat in his hand, coating his thick length with saliva. He would have gotten Anti to suck it for him but the angle would have been awkward. 

Wilford paused just to relish in Antis whining, signalling impatience, before lining up and pushing himself in, meeting with little resistance. Anti just about convulsed under the older man, and he spat obscenities under his breath and his chest rose and fell dramatically. Wilford tried to stifle his own satisfied grunt as he bottomed out and eventually, once he was completely hilted, held his position.

Wilford was well aware that if there was anyone on the planet who could take his cock in one try, it was Antisepticeye, and God knows the glitch prided himself on not exactly needed time to adjust. Anti took it however it was given, and that’s just the way Wilford and Dark liked it. Wilford knew all of this intimately well. But he resisted the immense urge to pound into Anti for just one more moment because watching the younger thing squirm in his own heat and frustration and arousal was quite the show. Wilford couldn’t get too carried away, however. If he was going to keep up the excuse that this was solely for the sake of not letting Anti exert himself, Wilford would have to start moving before Anti found a way to fuck himself on Wilfords cock. Darn, that would have been some show too.

Anti had taken more than enough steadying breaths and looked up at Wilford like he wanted to speak, or was expecting to speak. Wilford smirked.

“Fer fuck sake, Warfstache, just move!”

Wilford almost had to giggle.  
“Well my sultry little virus, since you asked so nicely...”

If Anti wanted to be worn out, fine. Wilford did indeed move. He pulled back and snapped his hips forward again, and Anti visibly flinched, trying not to screech. Wilford repeated the movement a few times, letting Anti shift slightly with each action, until another violent thrust forward caught a place inside Anti that him scream out in a two-toned sort of way, sounding like a terrible combination of a human voice and a static TV.

Wilford didn’t give Anti time to recover before grabbing his hips and fucking into him at a brutal pace, letting himself be a little selfish. Wilford had the stamina of a bull when he wanted to and Anti had already gotten himself worked up, Wilford felt confident he could do his job and wear Anti out while also being a tad self indulgent.

Noises buzzed in his ears and he had to assume that most of it was Antis voice, since Anti didn’t really have an aura the same way Wilford and Dark did. It made some dial up sounds, mixed with the sounds of a VCR struggling to read a tape, mixed with an infected computer in a perpetual state of loading without ever actually booting up.  
Wilford decided to assume that Anti making these sounds with his mouth, somehow, was a good thing. Judging by his face and his blissed out expression, he was probably fine.

Wilford didn’t let up, keeping his unrelenting pace until he was closing in on his own orgasm, and then some more. He brought up one of his hands to stroke along the side of the glitches face, brushing a thumb over his lip before wrapping his hand around his neck and slowly increasing pressure. Up until this point, Anti had been completely incoherent, but the new development had made something click in just the right way and Anti found himself plummeting towards his climax shockingly fast. It was a good thing he didn’t technically need air to speak. He pulled desperately at the ropes around his wrists, moving the headboard with it, but it didn’t budge.

He opened his mouth and words came out, but it was a combination of his own voice and other, varied voices that changed tone and pitch every other syllable, as if someone was switching through radio channels all saying the same thing somehow.

“Wilford, Wilford, that’s a - oh, shit...” A couple of the many voices tumbling out of Antis mouth had censored the word ‘shit’ as Wilford wrapped his hand around Antis neglected cock and almost milked it luxuriously, spreading dark pre and sweat and battery acid, who knew - the only thing either of them knew was that this felt way too good to last and it became apparent as Anti was swearing and screaming into the void, and Wilfords name was caught in there somewhere but he barely heard it since it was all rather deafening.

In a sort of distant way, some sort of rubber band Wilford had been holding onto snapped as he felt warm, wet, tingly matter splatter onto his knuckles. It was a rubber band he wasn’t entirely conscious he was holding onto, so it was all the more shocking when it snapped. His own rhythm faltered and at some point he felt his voice crack as he ripped his own hand away from Antis neck in fear of squeezing it too tight. And he was unloading deep inside Anti, pumping and heaving and cursing under his breath. 

Wilfords eyes, which had been squeezed shut during his orgasm, opened in the haze to find Anti staring up at him. If Wilford didn’t know any better, he would have said Anti looked stunned or enthralled or even in love. But Wilford did know better, that Anti already loved him in his own weird way and his post-orgasm face was the closest thing to honesty he ever really showed.

Wilford flicked his wrists and had the ropes around Antis wrist untying themselves before he even pulled out. It was slimy and wet and made a weird sound when he did pull out, but it didn’t matter. Anti was also slimy and he loved him all the same. Wilford scooped up Anti, who was a leaking puddle of code, and peppered him with many kisses. Anti made a vague attempt at protest, but overall he lost the battle.

“Ugh, I hate it when ye get all aftercare-y.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Ugh.”

Wilford was right. Anti didn’t hate it at all. He let himself be laid down properly, missing the wet patch on the bed, not bothering with a shower or any attempt at hygiene. Wilford burrito’d him in a blanket and wrapped his arms around the form, snuggling in tight.

“Tired now, my nasty little glitch?”

“Fuck off.”

“Love you too.”

That was just the way they worked. At this rate, Dark wouldn’t be too mad at them.

**Author's Note:**

> Have you got an idea or a request for a fic? Come shoot me a message at markipwiwer.tumblr.com!
> 
> If you like what I do, please consider supporting me at www.ko-fi.com/markipwiwer!


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